Annalise

Chapter 20: Shaken Up

I'm afraid of being powerless to help or make a change.

Being held down and immovable. Watching, with no way to intervene and make everything stop for the sake of a person.

That's what chews at me in the pit of my stomach, inside the core of my heart, and the deepest, darkest parts of my mind. It's being seized with an impotent guilt and sorrow while watching a person's pain surface to their eyes, or hearing the echoes of screams and cries to be more specific.

I frantically fought against Timothy's hold on me, the grip that was keeping me in place in front of him as he was behind me.

I fisted my blanket, pulling it higher to cover my boiling body.

"But, I already have enough blood on my hands today, this will just have to do," he swung the crowbar high and fast in the air, maintaining his grip.

I tossed to the side, rapid breaths flowing through my nostrils and entering my lungs. Although the air didn't suffice, it still felt like I was being smothered against a pillow.

The endless possibilities of what he could do flew into my head. It poked and probed at my hidden fears of losing a loved one, it awoken the feelings I never imagined to feel. I got scared, I'll cry. I got happy, I'll smile. I got sad, I'll pout. But these feelings? I couldn't comprehend these feelings, they were never ones I had to deal with.

My hand skimmed the soft design of my pillow, clenching it under my sweaty palm. I kicked the blanket wrapped around me.

"Stop it!" I screeched one last time, my voice filled with cracks.

"Mmmmmm," I groaned, feeling my face dig more into my fluffy pillow.

I twisted my body at an angle, prying the hands off me for an opportunity-filled second. My steps smacked the carpeted floor, and my hair flew to my face and stuck to my tear-stained cheeks.

I was already too late, the crowbar plummeted down, the air whipping from the speed, making a hideous noise to me, and the object's target of impact was the left hand of my brother. A disturbingly loud crack echoed and consumed my hearing, along with a painful yell of agony.

"No!" I cried out, my voice bouncing off the walls of my room.

A gulp of air filled me. My panting was disruptive to the silent night.

Bzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzz.

Or rather the silent morning before the start of school.

***

"Asher is still shunning you?" Alice bewilderedly confirmed my last statement, an eye-opener news to her.

I huffed, setting Shakespeare's play called Othello on my desk. "Yes," I sighed.

"He may be mad at you but this type of behavior is literally stupid," she frowned, her nose becoming crinkled.

"His hand broke because of me. Ash was right, I should've stayed away from Noah and - ahem," I whispered in a small voice, coughing as my eyes lingered on Ricky's form.

The back of his black cropped hair and dark red tee shirt, met my vision as I glanced up. His muscular arms were on display today, his veins flexing out at small movements.